Augh,  agony,  agony,  what can I do.

Bad times are here.

They are sticking to me like glue.

One complication after another.

All falling in order,  as if on cue.

Difficulties piling up like water against a dam.

I am not sure about how strong I am.

No more fingers to fill in the holes.

This time I am really in a jam.

I need help,  but all that could are acting the clown.

Going through this alone,  has me so very down.

Day after day,  no smile,  only a frown.

Augh,  agony,  anogy,  what can I do.

Bad times are here.

I am just through.


By JD. Bardo

◄ A Welcome Reality

Addicted ►


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Brian Hodgkinson

Sat 30th Jan 2021 08:39

Poetry is a pressure valve. Great work. Help is on the way.🎖

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keith jeffries

Sun 24th Jan 2021 00:39

A poem of being overwhelmed and in despair. However, you are wrong about one thing. You are not alone. Be assured there are, out there, those who care greatly.
Thanks a good poem.


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Aviva Rifka Bhandari

Fri 22nd Jan 2021 20:07

Blue as a colour isn't always bad to be
There's blue as the sky
There's blue as the sea
If right down to your blood you're blue
Then you are royalty.

But if you want to change your colour
Blue and Red is Purple
Blue and Yellow is Green
So if you mix Blue with another hue
You'll blue no longer be.

For the other problems that you face, apart from being blue
I'll hope you'll soon discover ways that you can solve them too.

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julie callaghan

Fri 22nd Jan 2021 19:55

Keep writing and keep strong.

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